


That Weren't Run On Batteries

by Abbie



Category: Captain America, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy is adrift in a sea of sexy, Everyone is bros, Gen, Gratutitous Firefly references, Kari is at fault for all things, Thor is a romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 15:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbie/pseuds/Abbie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living with superheroes is awesome, except for the part where everyone is gorgeous and Darcy is tired of being battery operated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Weren't Run On Batteries

**Author's Note:**

> And this is how to not be retired from writing fanfiction. Damn Darcy for being irresistible, and Kari for encouraging me.
> 
> Firefly references are always golden.

Darcy sat at the large, round kitchen table in the Avengers’ living space in Stark Tower, idly watching all her friends with a wistful look in her eye and a wry slant to her mouth. She was surrounded by beautiful, awesome people, and while she generally just wondered how this was her life and rejoiced in the quirkiness of the universe, lately her feelings about the situation had become a little more… frustrating.

Or maybe that was frustrat _ed_.

Darcy hadn’t gotten laid, or even been on a date, in well over a year. There was a point when being surrounded by eyecandy became counterproductive in the battle against loneliness and sexual frustration, and then another point where using your best friends as eyecandy became just even privately weird, and Darcy had long since passed both of those points, and had waved forlornly at the “No Return” signs as she rocketed past.

Leaning her elbows on the scuffed surface of the table and utterly ignoring her half-eaten toaster strudel (you could binge-eat only so many boxes of pop tarts with the actual-facts god of thunder before you swore never again), Darcy heaved a gusty sigh.

Nudging Barton’s ankle under the table, where he was sat conveniently next to her, she listlessly demanded, “Clint, tell me I’m pretty.”

Not bothering to look up from the funnies section of the Daily Bugle in front of him, Clint took a pull off his coffee, then replied, “Were I unwed, I would take you in a manly fashion.”

“‘Cause I’m pretty?” Darcy prompted.

“‘Cause you’re pretty,” Clint dutifully replied, nodding.

Still not even so much as turning towards each other, they both shared simultaneous, near-identical smirks.

Sitting across from them in his tan cargo pants and tight white tee, Steve’s face screwed up in wary bewilderment as he glanced between Darcy and Clint, his fork arrested above his plate bearing a load of scrambled eggs. “What the—huh? Clint, what—you’re _married_?”

Almost against his will and certainly against his better judgement, Steve’s eyes flicked over to where Natasha leaned against the island counter with her toast and glass of orange juice, still dressed in her pajamas. His gaze made a hasty tactical retreat, however, when she slowly raised that one challenging eyebrow that somehow managed to convey both incredulity, you-have-got-to-be-shitting-me, and a sharp edge of I-dare-you-to-say-that-thought-out-loud.

Darcy and Clint finally slanted their eyes at each other and they snickered, grinning. Tony, meanwhile, stopped drowning the plate of waffles in front of him in syrup and snatched up his omnipresent tablet, fingers flying in erratic arcs and curves over its transparent surface. Tilting his chin slightly as if calling over his shoulder, he called, “JARVIS, put Firefly on the queue for Steve’s mandatory modern educational programming. _Serenity_ , too, while we’re at it.”

“ _Shiny, Sir_.”

Thor and Jane, who had meanwhile been canoodling by the toaster, parted at the face and Thor moved more into the dining nook-area to take part in the conversation. “I have seen some of this program which you quote, Clint, and while I know the sentiment behind your reassurances to Darcy that she is an attractive woman worthy of pursuit and pleasure are noble and meant to be kind, I feel I must interject.”  
  
Darcy couldn’t quite tell what her face was doing, but if it looked half as stuck between confused, wary, and surprised as she felt, it was a wonder no one was calling 911 thinking she was having a stroke. If Thor was about to big-brother-style defend her hypothetical honor from Clint’s not-even-remotely-serious advances like she thought he was, she might prefer a medical false alarm.  
  
Thor, however, leaned his elbow on the island bar, looked her seriously in the face, and said, “You should never settle for so half-hearted a wooing, my shield sister. I shall tell you what any man who truly wanted you but was otherwise obligated should say, for it is no less than you deserve.  
  
"Were I not willfully and happily claimed by my lady Jane, I would praise daily the fairness of your face, hourly the brightness of your eyes, and by each passing minute the warmth of your smile and strength of your hands. There would be no question of my hunger for your flesh and form, for it would be well known to you, and nothing but your returning of that heat witholding the burn of my passion. And it could only be that I were else bound that stayed me, for you are clever, kind, mighty and fierce, and more beautiful than stars.”  
  
Darcy’s mouth hung open, and she and the other occupants of the room stared at Thor in stunned silence, and many brows were raised. Choking a garbled noise, Darcy gently banged her forehead down against the tabletop three times, then threw her hands into the air. “Jane, you better hang the hell onto your alien manmeat, because _that is just unfair_. I hate my life.”

Jane, whose slack-jawed surprise was slowly curling into a Tex Avery-worthy wolfish grin, stepped forward and curled her fingers in the waistband of Thor's jeans, reeling him willingly in. "Uh uh, open your own wormhole to another realm. This one's mine."

Hands curving into empty claws, Darcy swallowed a sound that was the mutant offspring of a groan and a scream--and no, not the sexy kind--and pushed back from the table, her chair scraping the floorboards satisfyingly loudly.

As she stomped by, Natasha raised an eyebrow and drawled, "And exactly where are you going? You can't actually go opening wormholes like E-Harmony profiles, you know."

Tossing the redhead a surprisingly venomous look, Darcy growled, "To the store. _We're out of batteries_ ," and headed for the elevator.

Tony, face a mask of Broadway caliber horror, splayed his fingers over his arc reactor and hollered after her, "I can't know that!!"

**Author's Note:**

> Please, like this wouldn't be you forced to live amongst all the smoking hotness. Hello DIY.


End file.
